


The Many Dangerous Attractions of Damian Wayne

by NightFlier



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, OC Professor Abbasi, One-sided baby crush Damian Wayne/Professor Abbasi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFlier/pseuds/NightFlier
Summary: Damian Wayne liked to believe that he was lovable. Pennyworth and Grayson assured him that he was.... but they were also soft-hearted fools.Maybe he was the loveless monster that some people would paint him as. That is the Heir to the Demon that his grandfather and mother raised.But he's fallen in love before and had his heart broken. These experiences all confirmed one thing to him, love was dangerous. But was it worth the risk?
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne/Djinn, Damian Wayne/Raven, One-sided Damian Wayne/ Tatsu Yamashiro (Katana), One-sided Damian Wayne/Cassandra Cain, One-sided Damian Wayne/Emiko Queen, One-sided? Damian Wayne/Jon Kent, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Professor Abbasi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meri jaan = my life 
> 
> bahut Shukriya = thank you very much
> 
> Nahin nahin, koi masla nahin = It's no problem

Damian Wayne was not made out of something so reckless as love. 

In a laboratory, his mother planned out his legacy down to every last cell. 

The Demon’s Head demanded strength, respect, self-discipline, and most of all obedience.

There could be no other conflicting loyalties. 

That was why Talia’s weakness for Bruce confused Damian. 

She loved his father enough to give up her son to him.

(But she didn’t love her son enough to stay with them.)

Why let herself be vulnerable to the Dark Knight, a self-proclaimed opponent of Ra’s and everything that the League of Assassins stood for?

Growing up, Damian was trained to control his emotions. It didn’t even occur to him that Talia _didn’t_ choose to love Bruce. She simply did.

Sometimes, Damian was weak. He secretly wished to be the cold, unbending assassin that his mother and grandfather desired. If only his heart truly was full of death, then all of these painful feelings would’ve never sparked to life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian was seven years old when Talia introduced him to Professor Abbasi. The middle-aged academic was ‘hired’ to add Geology to the young boy’s already impressive repertoire of lessons. 

Professor Abbasi was different from everyone else in the League of Assassins. Out of uniform, she kept on covering her black hair with a distinct head covering. Little Damian guessed that it was a show of dedication to the League, but Professor Abbasi refuted that theory. 

“No, _meri jaan_ ,” Professor Abbasi patted the top of little Damian’s head. He scowled outwardly, yet leaned towards her touch. “I wear a hijab to show pride in my religion.”

  
  
“So…” As he mulled over this new information, little Damian’s lip jutted out. “Your god requires you to wear it?”

“No, it is entirely my choice,” Professor Abbasi responded firmly. 

“Can I wear one?” 

“I don’t think your mother would allow it,” Professor Abbasi unconsciously trailed her fingers over her pale blue hijab, halting at her neck.

  
  
“Please? I won’t let her see it,” Damian promised, his pudgy hands clasped together hopefully.

“I suppose if it’s just the two of us here,” Professor Abbasi relented too easily. She couldn’t help it. The little boy reminded her too much of her sweet nephews back in Pakistan. 

Rooting around her dresser, she eventually settled on a turquoise scarf. Damian observed attentively as she folded the square piece of fabric in half. She then laid the soft material across the top of his head.

Suddenly, he was blindfolded! The oversized garment had flopped down over his cheekbones. His face crumpled up in discomfort, his mother would’ve disapproved of this accidental disadvantage. As the Heir to the Demon, little Damian always needed to be vigilant of his surroundings. 

But… He trusted Professor Abbasi and she soon adjusted the fabric back up. Chuckling at his sour expression, Professor Abbasi evened out the tail ends of the material to rest on his chest. She then tucked the fabric in at the side. For the final bit, she placed it under his chin and expertly pinned it in place.

To little Damian, it didn’t feel all that different from wearing the League’s dark cowls.

“Hmm,” Professor Abbasi tapped her chin thoughtfully, “do you want it to stay on the front or pulled back?”

“Pulled back like yours!” Damian announced without hesitation. Hiding a smile, Professor Abbasi complied.

“Ahh, it really makes your eyes stand out,” she bopped little Damian’s nose. A giggle escaped his mouth. Embarrassed by the foible, little Damian swatted her hand away and strode over to her room’s modest-sized mirror.

“It is… satisfactory,” he decided after a long look. The hijab framed his round face, but—unlike the League's masks— left his green eyes exposed. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Professor Abbasi walked up behind him, “do you remember how to do it?”

  
  
“Yes, of course,” little Damian retorted and clumsily picked at the fabric. Giving him a few seconds headstart, Professor Abbasi eventually removed the safety pins herself, so her student wouldn’t prick himself.

“Then show me how it’s done,” she challenged the Heir to the Demon. 

Even unintentionally, Professor Abbasi always challenged little Damian’s fist-fed beliefs from the League. 

One late afternoon, little Damian burst into her room (Heirs to the Demon didn’t knock) to discover her kneeling. 

“What are you doing?” He demanded. Professor Abbasi paid him no mind and continued to rest her forehead on a small rug. Annoyed, little Damian still refused to lower himself like a plebeian child and throw a tantrum. Instead, he sat by the wall and quietly fumed at her. Despite her uncomfortable-looking position, she didn’t so much as twitch at his presence. 

Soon enough, little Damian’s anger ebbed away. Professor Abbasi silently changed positions from kneeling to sitting up to kneeling again. When she eventually stood, little Damian flinched, but she still didn’t acknowledge him. It felt like he was being included in some sort of personal ritual.

Was it a new lesson? Little Damian examined his teacher. Her movements seemed so controlled in their repetitiveness, yet also freeing in their practiced fluidity. He was reminded of the assassins practicing kata, however, Professor Abbasi was too slow and passive to be training. 

Minutes drifted by without his noticing: so entranced by Professor Abbasi. There was no telling pattern that he could discern. Little Damian relaxed to the sound of her shifting and the steady drum of his heartbeat.

Finally, Professor Abbasi sat up and turned her head right then left: signaling the end. 

“Hello, _meri jaan,”_ she finally faced little Damian. The boy, who fell into a drowsy state, startled and stood. “ _Shukriya_ for not interrupting my prayer.”

“ _Nahin nahin, koi masla nahin_ ,” Damian sniffed contemptuously, not quite pulling off nonchalance. 

“So what brings you so early to my dwellings?” Professor Abbasi began rolling up the arabesque, embroidered rug. 

Damian didn’t want to admit that he just wanted to see her, “is education not a worthy enough pursuit?”

  
  
“Smart boy,” Professor Abbasi's laughter rang out like bells.

“What were you doing?” little Damian shuffled on his feet. 

“I was praying to my god, Allah.”

  
  
“You kneeled a lot to him,” little Damian was confused. In all of his memories, the only person worthy enough to kneel to was his grandfather. How could anyone else match Ra’s Al Ghul’s might? 

“To completely place myself in his hands,” she stored the rug away, “I must first shed my arrogance and express my humility.”

“I don’t approve. My grandfather should be your only master,” little Damian frowned. 

“Perhaps, one day, you’ll meet someone else worthy of following.” 

“I doubt it; this world is crawling with inferior cowards.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed noncommittedly. Little Damian followed her to the desk to help set out the class materials.

“Aren’t you upset that I don’t believe in your god?” He wondered aloud.

“Why would I be? The Quran advocates for peace and love,” Professor Abbasi brought out a thick book that little Damian had seen her read before. 

Without cracking it open, she recited, _“Allah does not forbid you from showing kindness and dealing justly with those who have not fought you due to your faith or driven you out of your homes. Allah loves those who deal justly. Allah only forbids you from those people that fought you because of your faith, drove you out of your homes and helped in your expulsion, that you take them as intimate associates. And whosoever takes them as intimate associates, then it is they who are the wrongdoers.”_ [al-Quran, 60:8-9]

“And those against your faith, who’ve driven you from your home, are the ones that you’ve left behind,” little Damian nodded.

  
  
“Not quite,” she didn’t elaborate further.

“Tell me about your home,” little Damian commanded, “what does it look like?”

  
  
“Oh,” Professor Abbasi waved her hands fruitlessly in the air, “That’s like asking someone to describe music. There’s no single answer.” 

“Then tell me all the answers,” little Damian pouted and crossed his arms together.

“It’d be easier if I just showed you,” Professor Abbasi decided.

“You have photographs?”

  
  
“No,” Professor Abbasi sighed, “but I have the next best thing.”

  
  
She took out a stack of papers tied together by a string. Undoing the knot, Professor Abbasi revealed dozens of drawings. 

“Woah,” little Damian gasped. Without touching, his finger traced the lines of a river to a cluster of trees. “Where did you purchase these?”

  
  
“Nowhere,” Professor Abbasi proudly shared, “I drew them myself.”

“They’re marvelous.”

“That right there is the Indus River, one of the longest rivers in Asia! My country’s agriculture depends on it.” 

“What’s this?” Damian uncovered a drawing of a mountain.

“That is Nanga Parbat.”  
  
  


“That sounds like Nanda Parbat!” Little Damian tittered in amusement.

“Hmm, indeed it does,” Professor Abbasi stared at the drawing, “you know, its nickname is ‘Killer Mountain’ for all of the hikers who don’t survive the trek.”

  
  
“They should’ve trained harder before attempting it,” Little Damian rolled his eyes at the amateur hikers. At the young age of four, he managed to climb the mountains of Interlaken despite his broken wrist.

“It’s a dangerous place,” she murmured, “even the best can fall prey to fate.”

“I wish I had a drawing to show you of the incredible canyon that Mother and I visited last year,” little Damian expressed his regret.

“Why don’t you draw it for me now,” she flipped through the papers to find a blank one.

“I can’t draw!” Little Damian shook his head vigorously. 

  
  
“I am your professor,” Professor Abbasi grinned, “I can teach you.”

Damian’s eyes soaked in the wonderful drawings again, each one a window to another place. 

“Fine, I accept your proposition,” little Damian took a colored pencil. Professor Abbasi reached over to correct his grip. Cheeks growing hot, the boy didn’t complain about the familiar touch.  
  


Whenever Talia left Nanda Parbat, little Damian was more or less left to his own devices. One day, he got up from the dining table and took his plate to Professor Abbasi’s room. She welcomed the company. 

It became their custom to eat together during Talia’s absences. 

Before partaking in the meal, Professor Abbasi meticulously picked out every piece of pork from her plate to feed the dogs later. She moved her wine to the side, that could be exchanged for an extra rice portion. However, little Damian didn’t know that.

“You shouldn’t waste food,” he scolded her.

“Then they shouldn’t feed haram food to a Muslim,” she quickly countered.

Damian hesitated, “I could order the chef to fix that oversight.”

  
  
“No,” she groaned, “I can’t afford to get on his bad side. He’s my only coffee supplier.”

“Hrrmph” little Damian peered into her mug at the thick, black liquid. Somehow his professor drank the bitter-smelling potion thrice daily. Little Damian wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Don’t be like that. It’s the only gift I’ve gotten since arriving here,” Professor Abbasi smiled contentedly.

Damian was annoyed at Professor Abbasi’s fond undertone. The chef was an ill-tempered man who cut off his staff’s fingers for the slightest mistake.

“It can’t be that great,” he argued. 

His professor shot him a mischievous look, “would you like to try it?”

  
  
“Pfft, why bother?”

  
  
“Scared?” 

“No!” little Damian cupped the large mug between his tiny hands. Steeling himself, he tipped it towards his opened lips. A larger-than-expected amount flowed into his mouth. The bitterness attacked his tongue, but he forcibly gulped the coffee down. His features twisted in disgust. “How is this poison supposed to be a gift?”

“He knows that I couldn’t function without it,” she admitted, “you could call it my kryptonite.”

  
  
“Your what?” Little Damian’s mind went to the similar-sounding cryptids, but that couldn’t be right.

  
  
“That’s right! We haven’t gone over extraterrestrial geology yet,” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, “I guess if you somehow convinced the chef to change his dishes, while leaving my name out of it, I could find the time for that lesson….”

“Are you trying to bargain with me?”

“Isn’t making pacts with worthy combatants part of being an Al Ghul?” She teased him.

  
  
“No, my family destroys those who deny us,” little Damian asserted, “and if they serve no purpose then they are done away with.”

  
  
“Right, silly me,” her smile faded away and he felt an unidentifiable pang in his chest. 

“But as I said earlier, I will give this task my all! An Al Ghul does not go back on his word,” little Damian proclaimed.

Professor Abbasi’s smile returned, just not as bright as before. They began the day’s lesson without any further discussion.

And Little Damian didn’t go back on his word. Mustering all of his intimidation and charm, he went to confront the League’s head chef. However, Ra’s preferred the meals as they were, so nothing could be done.

When Talia returned, little Damian went back to sharing mealtimes with her.

“What are you doing?” She questioned him: her sharp eyes already cutting through any forming falsehoods.

Her son looked down, he had been separating the pork from the rice. 

“I’ve just grown tired of pork,” he acknowledged carefully.

“Eat it,” she commanded, “you’ll need all the energy you can get before sparring your cousin, Mara.”

  
  
“ _-TT-”_ Little Damian protested, but started to eat the meat, “she is no great threat.” 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day, little Damian hiked the fortress grounds to collect sedimentary rocks: an assignment from Professor Abbasi. She wasn’t permitted to leave the walls, but little Damian wasn’t alone. Two assassins shadowed the boy in case of any danger. Clambering over a large boulder, little Damian stood to gaze over the desert. He picked out the similarities to the Pakistani deserts from Professor Abbasi's drawings.

Gracefully, he scrambled down to pick up a sandy-colored rock. After a short examination, he pitched it away. It wasn’t the right one. After a while, he did locate a perfect example of sedimentary rock and threw it without warning at an assassin to catch. It was good for them to hone their reflexes. 

Finally, he collected everything on the list but still wasn’t ready to return within the walls. Pulling ahead of the assassins, he crouched out of sight to investigate an unexpected spot of color. The discovery was perfect. He hid it in his hands and hurried to Professor Abbasi’s room.

“Professor Abbasi, Professor Abbasi! Look, I found you an even better gift,” he called out. After capturing her attention, he unfurled his hands to reveal a tiny, pink flower. At Nanda Parbat, rocks were copious, but flowers were as rare as coffee. Rarer even. 

“You plucked it?” A line furrowed between her eyebrows. 

“Yes?” little Damian picked up on the anger in Professor Abbasi’s voice.

“Damian, this flower struggled to bloom in this inhospitable region and you just killed it!” 

Little Damian’s eyes widened in shock. His grandfather and mother would raise their voices at him, but never Professor Abbasi. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he stuttered. His fingers gingerly wrapped over the flower, hiding the evidence. It was the third time that little Damian had ever apologized in his life.

“No, no,” Professor Abbasi backtracked, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped at you for such a small thing.”

“But it’s dead now…” little Damian deflated, “you missed your garden back home, so I wanted to bring you something that grew. But I killed it!”

  
  
“You didn’t know,” she soothed him, “besides I know how to make it immortal.”

  
  
“The Lazarus Pit?”

  
  
“Ha, good guess but no. Let me show you a foolproof method of storing flowers,” Professor Abbasi picked up one of their textbooks.

“May I?” Her hand hovered over little Damian’s. He nodded tersely and opened up his grasp. Plucking the flower from his palms, she tucked it between two pages. After closing the textbook, she stacked another book on top of it.

“That’s all?” little Damian’s curiosity won over his previous shame.

“Mhmm, we’ll need to change pages every few days. But after about three weeks, the flower will be perfectly preserved.”

“Wow,” little Damian stretched out his dirt-covered fingers. 

“Now let’s get those hands cleaned,” Professor Abbasi took out a cloth and little Damian allowed her to fuss over him. 

“So… it’ll last forever?” Little Damian attempted to see through her thick lashes to catch her eyes.

  
  
“About forever. It’s a wonderful gift, _meri jaan_ ,” she stayed focused on his hands, “ _bahut Shukriya.”_

“Better than coffee?” Little Damian just needed that to be clarified.

“Yes, much better than coffee,” she chuckled, “it will be my good luck charm.” Satisfied with his hands, Professor Abbasi let them go and then gently kissed the top of his head. Little Damian’s heart began to quicken. He didn’t understand why: the run to her room wasn’t that long.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One week later, little Damian was sparring with his mother. She had news.

“My dear boy,” her bo staff would’ve decapitated him if he hadn’t ducked, “I procured a new professor for you.”

  
  
“I’m beginning another class?” little Damian lunged at Talia. She darted out of the way and attacked. Little Damian brought up his bo staff to deflect her. 

“You are not. From now on, he will be teaching your Geology lessons.”

  
  
Little Damian faltered in his steps and Talia took the opportunity to pin him to the ground. 

“I already have a Geology professor,” he gasped. 

“Professor Abbasi was determined to be… ill-suited to inspire your full potential.”

“So… When will she be departing?” Little Damian’s voice cracked a miniscule amount. 

“She’s already gone,” Talia stepped back to allow little Damian to stand. He did so, unsteadily.

“Without saying farewell?” Little Damian saw Talia’s expression and switched tracks, “I prepared some questions from the last lesson.”

“Direct them to your new professor,” and with that, the conversation was over and sparring resumed.

In the following week, little Damian would go out of his way to walk past Professor Abbasi’s old room. He already checked, it was bare. There was no more prayer rug, no more colorful hijabs, no more fascinating Quran, no more beautiful drawings, and no more cursed coffee mug. Then one day, he spotted the light shift beneath the door crack. 

Hope flared within him. He flew in expecting a colorful hijab with a complimentary shalwar kameez; thick, black eyebrows perpetually raised in an inquisitive arch; soft, coffee-colored eyes; and a smile saved just for him. 

Instead, he found a lanky man with an uncontrollable mane of blond hair. 

“What are you doing here” little Damian demanded, sounding every bit like his grandfather.

“I’m, um, your new professor,” the surprised man stammered: his accent grating in contrast to Professor Abbasi’s melodious voice. 

“I don’t need one!” little Damian’s hackles rose.

“I-” the man didn’t get to finish before little Damian stormed out. 

He scoured the building before stomping over to his mother in a sitting room. 

“Mother, the new professor is a blubbering idiot!” He growled, “I demand that Professor Abbasi return at once.”  
  
“And why would she want to return to an ungrateful boy like you?” Talia utilized the tone normally reserved for assassins returning from failed missions. And failure is not acceptable in the League of Assassins.

Back in his bedroom, little Damian paced and paced and paced. Two years ago, he mastered driving. He could potentially escape Nanda Parbat and then travel on his own to Pakistan. She told him stories about her home. He could meet her there.

Laying down on his bed, he pictured their reunion. She would’ve been in her garden, surrounded by a thousand pink flowers. He would’ve strolled in and found her reading on a bench. Looking up from her book, Professor Abbasi would’ve been surprised but undeniably happy by his arrival. 

  
After apologizing for whatever wrongdoing that he committed, Little Damian would convince her to return with him. She had to see that he was sorry. He would’ve done anything. He would’ve studied harder, been better behaved, and forced that idiotic chef to take haram foods off the menu. 

Little Damian squeezed his eyes shut.

Why didn’t she say goodbye? Little Damian thought she cared enough— He thought she was courteous enough to grant him that much.

Little Damian shook his head to get rid of those distracting thoughts. He pulled out his drawing journal, a gift from Professor Abbasi, to start brainstorming.  
  


None of little Damian’s escape attempts succeeded. Every time he was brought before his grandfather. Annoyed at the interruption, Ra’s swiftly doled out the appropriate punishment. Little Damian stopped trying after the twenty-sixth defeat.

So life went back to normal. Mostly normal. Little Damian terrorized his new Geology professor and anyone who even slightly crossed him. 

That’s probably why Talia was surprised by her son’s request a few months later. Talia, like her father, rewarded her children for winning a battle. Just recently, little Damian bested her at a game of carrom for the first time. She was feeling generous.

“Well done, Damian,” she proudly clapped him on the back, “what would you like to commemorate this?” He didn’t ask about his father as expected.

“I want to see Professor Abbasi’s file,” he murmured. 

Talia frowned, but agreed. Hopefully, seeing the professor’s not-up-to-League qualifications would provide her son closure on this ridiculous matter. 

The mother and son went together to the archives. After the record-keeper handed over Professor Abbasi’s file, Talia gave her son some privacy by walking away. Little Damian waited until she was in deep conversation with the record-keeper before opening the file. On the first page, the name "Inaya Abbasi" was printed out with big, impersonal letters.

The file overall was too short. He quickly skimmed through the papers. 

There was nothing about Professor Abbasi’s past expeditions into active volcanoes.

No information at all on her years leading her university football team. 

And not a single note on her habit of stirring her coffee when deep in thought. 

Maybe not all of those things mattered for teaching…. No, they did matter. Without those experiences and quirks, Professor Abbasi wouldn’t be Professor Abbasi. She wouldn’t have been little Damian’s first friend.

He rapidly blinked away the mist from his eyes. A small envelope caught his attention. Inside, there were various small photos of the professor. She obviously wasn’t aware that they were being taken. 

The last three even contained images of her beloved garden, just as green and luscious as her drawings. Little Damian hardly recognized her without a hijab. Her thick, black hair was out and freely curling around her face. 

Grimacing, little Damian ripped those photos up into tiny pieces. No one had the right to see those without her permission. 

Covertly, he surveyed his surroundings. Neither his mother nor the record-keeper looked his way. He swiftly slid one snapshot into his sleeve. In that one, Professor Abbasi wore a familiar blue hijab and a real smile. It was still a poor imitation of the actual person… but it was all he had.

Little Damian snapped the file closed and gestured to his mother. He was ready to go.

Talia said nothing of the incident. His mother knew everything; she had to be aware of his damaging the file. Instead of the expected punishment, Talia prepared his favorite dish for dinner, ox blood soup. 

She inquired about his studies and training. Little Damian did his best to impress her with his greatest achievements. After eating, she told him to go get dressed.

They were going on an excursion. Outside of Nanda Parbat. 

Little Damian had been to other places before, but he didn’t recognize the place where Talia landed the jet. They walked out on a cliff, hanging over the sea. Talia sat down with her legs hanging over the edge and gestured at her son to do the same. 

“Why are we here, Mother?” Little Damian’s voice was almost whisked away by the brisk wind.

“The sea is beautiful, isn’t it?” Talia ignored his question.

“Yes…”

  
  
“Yet it has also claimed countless human lives, more than the League could ever aspire to take. However, people are still drawn to it. Swim in the waves, go diving, even risk a voyage on what always amounts to a flimsy toy if the storm is great enough. Why is that, Damian?”  
  
  


“We won’t allow anything to stand in our way. To surrender is to relinquish all power.”

  
“But why make the attempt in the first place?”

  
  
Little Damian had no answer for her. Talia carried on.

“We’re attracted to what we can’t tame. I believe that is what first drew me to your father. But, my precious boy, an Al Ghul cannot be controlled by another. We are expected to be pillars of strength for everyone else. We must recognize our….. inadequacies and deal with them, so our true mission will not be corrupted.”

“Why are we here?” Damian asked again.

“Your dear professor asked me the same thing once,” Talia squinted at the waves crashing below them, “but a question can't take you somewhere else.”

Talia and little Damian sat there for hours until the sun was gradually swallowed up by the horizon. 

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


It took longer than little Damian would admit to discover what happened to Professor Abbasi… and to the rest of his former professors. The League couldn’t afford loose ends. And his professors would know about their location and the precious Heir to the Demon.

He supposed that his mother was trying to break it to him gently that day on the cliff. But he was a child back then and couldn’t understand. 

Professor Abbasi didn’t know how to swim. For that, little Damian was grateful. It would’ve been quick. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly three years had passed since little Damian met Professor Abbasi. His tenth birthday was rapidly approaching. A birthday meant another battle with his mother. Another chance to win a chance to meet his father. After gleaning the location of the battle, he decided to collect data on the terrain. Any advantage would be helpful against Talia.

Sitting on his bed, little Damian leafed through an old text book. Midway through, he stumbled upon the pink flower still nestled between two pages. Almost as vibrant as the day that he had presented it to Professor Abbasi. Only the lack of scent proved that it was dead. 

He twirled the delicate thing between his fingers. Specks fell off of it. Apparently “almost forever” didn't mean much. Little Damian’s grasp became stronger until he was basically grinding the flower. He blew the powdered remains off of his hands.

And just like that, the only flower that bloomed in Nanda Parbat was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> This relationship idea came from the one line in Super Sons were Damian shared how his mother threw his Geology professor into the sea. Professor Abbasi is a character that I created myself.
> 
> I did my research, but I'm neither Pakistani nor Muslim, so let me know if I made any mistakes in the character's representation and I will rectify it.
> 
> Coming up next.... Cassandra Cain.


	2. Cassandra Cain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian has just started out as the 5th Robin. There've been some ups and downs getting to know the rest of his Batfamily. In particular, Cassandra Cain has frustrated Damian. He heard so much about the girl assassin from his mother. And she is both everything and nothing like he imagined her to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined Cass’ older storylines with her rebooted one in Rebirth. 
> 
> In this chapter, Cassandra is Black Bat.  
> Barbara Gordon is Oracle.  
> Tim Drake is Red Robin.  
> Damian Wayne is Robin  
> Dick Grayson is Batman.  
> Bruce Wayne is also Batman but off in space.  
> Jean-Paul Valley is Azrael  
> Jason Todd is anti-hero Red Hood  
> Alfred is always Alfred the best butler/adoptive dad&grandpa in existence.

Other children fell asleep to fairy tales, Damian drifted off to the feats of great assassins: Deathstroke, Lady Shiva, Sportsmaster, Bronze Tiger, Cheshire… However, the one who attracted his attention the most, Cassandra Cassandra, abandoned the League before he was even born.

Like him, Cassandra was purposefully brought into this world to be the best. 

Her father hid her away from everyone else, including her mother. Foregoing a classical education, she was trained in countless martial arts and weapons. Body language was her native language. To Cassandra, the slightest twitch would tell if the target was preparing to attack or flee.

At five years old, she was sent on her first mission. Under the guise of fetching a ball, Cassandra stumbled upon an up-and-rising politician hosting a community picnic. The poison that she slipped into his drink was untraceable. 

Another memorable success occurred two years later. Cassandra infiltrated a diplomat kid’s birthday party to set off an allergen via a gas leak (released from her ‘asthma inhaler’). The target went down as planned. No one ever suspected the children. 

Her last known kill happened in Macau just a few months after the birthday party. Cassandra was finally given the opportunity to truly prove herself to the League. She slashed the throat of Faizul, a ‘bookman,’ without hesitation. No one expected her to run away after all of that. Especially not into the hands of the Bats. 

Talia always ended the stories of Cassandra with the moral that children should be exposed to death early on. Empathy for the enemy was a weakness that David Cain should’ve squashed long ago. 

That’s how Ra’s raised Talia and Nyssa. And it was how Talia raised her son. 

Despite her…. deactivate status, Damian still felt a camaraderie with Cassandra. The only other League member near his age was his cousin Mara, but she was insufferable. In contrast, Cassandra sounded wonderful. 

Without many actual companions, Damian imagined her at his side. She was always immortalized at the young age of eight. During training, she chipped in with the perfect advice. _Sweep the legs. Jab the throat. Cut the windpipe._

On his birthday, Cassandra cheered him on during the annual battle with his mother and helped scrutinize his mistakes afterward.

Cassandra was still there even when Professor Abbasi wasn’t… 

  
  
  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  
  


After joining his father’s team, Damian was thrilled to learn of Cassandra’s more recent adventures. The woman who led the League of Assassins. The warrior who ran the Outsiders at his father’s command.

He would ask question after question that Dick and Alfred would obligingly answer (happy that Damian seemed willing to be friendly with another Batmember).

  
  


_How did she become a reserve member of the Young Justice?_ Not like Damian himself was interested in joining... If anything, he’d step in as their new leader, but only after they groveled and begged at his feet.

  
  


_Who did she consider her most powerful opponent over the years? Bizarro, Joker, Supergirl, Shadowthief…_ Actually, Damian took Supergirl off the list. After meeting her, Damian could admit that the Kryptonian teenager had her strengths… However, she’d become powerless before a little magic or kryptonite. 

  
  


_What did Cassandra experience during her submergence in the Lazarus Pit?_ Like hell, he’d ask that neanderthal Red Hood. It must’ve been hard for Cassandra, knowing that Mad Dog— her adoptive brother— murdered her. Damian couldn’t comprehend such a wicked betrayal committed by family. His mother didn’t bother to conceal her disappointment in Damian’s new allegiances, but she’d _never_ take his life. 

  
  
  


A question that Damian kept to himself, even though it was seared into his mind, was how Cassandra restrained her blood lust. Damian tried his hardest to abide by his father’s rules, but at times he found it difficult. Like when Professor Pyg murdered that civilian girl’s father and mutilated her face. Or when Slade took over his body to attack Grayson. 

Being _good_ went against everything he was taught about putting down potential threats permanently. 

Yet Grayson, Alfred, and the rest of them sang Cassandra’s praises. Even his taciturn father only showed approval of her work. 

How did she do it? And could he manage to do the same?

  
  
  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  
  


Damian met Black Bat before he met Cassandra. They teamed up for a stakeout at the Iceberg Lounge. She was everything that he imagined. Like Grayson, she carried herself with the fluid and strong movements of an acrobat. Yet while Grayson demanded to be seen, Black Bat melted into the shadows before striking the final blow. 

Perched on that dark rooftop, Damian analyzed Black Bat carefully from her pointy-eared mask down to the golden bat symbol on her chest. 

The Black _Bat._ How brazen of her to assume his father’s name like that. Why did a runaway assassin get to wear those colors while the blood son was stuck with the juvenile red, green, and gold? 

The woman acted much too presumptuous for her station and Damian told her as much. 

Ignoring him, she kept her eyes on their target. His blood boiled at her disrespect. Before he could open his mouth again, she ditched him to join the action in the back of the Iceberg Lounge.

“Keep your eyes on the front,” she said.

As if he took orders from _her._

After breaking in, Damian nearly managed to disable the time bomb when she pulled him out of there!

“I had it! I had it! You **ruined** it all!” Damian grappled Black Bat onto her back. 

He could’ve done it! He could’ve saved the day! Was she so full of herself that no one else was allowed to be the hero?

“Don’t forget what matters,” she swiftly switched their positions to where he was the one looking up at her, “you’re **alive**.” 

Respecting Grayson’s current leadership, Damian did not break Black Bat’s arms. That didn’t stop him from seething all the way to the Cave.

  
  
  


Lurking in the background, Damian glowered as the team decided their next move. Not as if they’d listen to him anyway… 

Somehow he ended up working with Black Bat once again. 

They were charged with finding and disarming the bomb that the Architect set below Lake Gotham. Like last time, the bombs were ticking down. Only minutes before detonation. Helpless against the blast, the retaining wall would have crumbled and Gotham would’ve been flooded.

“But I need you to **trust** me, Robin,” Cassandra told him. There was no question that he’d cooperate. The city needed them. And...he couldn’t just leave a teammate to die. Besides, Damian had discovered that the craziest plans had the highest success rates in Gotham.

Together, Damian and Cassandra attached the bombs to the Batboat and carried them a safe distance away just in time. 

Damian’s father could afford to buy a new boat. 

  
  
  
  
  


Perhaps Damian was a bit too hasty with his judgment of Black Bat. She still was Cassandra Cain, skilled child assassin and defector to the side of heroes. Just like him.

Moreover, she defended him against Red Robin, his mortal enemy. That warranted a second chance. 

With her staying in the city, Damian was able to study her from afar. She appeared to be worthy of his trust, yet one couldn’t be too careful. Brainwashing or no brainwashing, Cassandra did turn traitor before by working with Deathstroke. 

  
  


First off, Damian needed to gather intel. Outside of vigilantism, Cassandra seemed to have no life, so his only sources would be other Batmembers. The Batfamily tended to be too trusting and naive with their allies, and therefore, Damian would have to be sly with his information-extracting methods.

“Could Cassandra beat you in a fight?” He brought up on patrol with Grayson; they just finished gift-wrapping Firefly for the cops.

“Ha ha…” Grayson chuckled awkwardly, “Spoiler showed you the video, didn’t she? But I’m pretty sure that I lasted longer than Red Hood or Red Robin!”

_Capable of taking down the Batfamily, check!_

  
  
  
  


Stephanie Brown was his next stop. A ten-year-old waiting outside on a college campus invited curious glances from students and professors alike. As if Damian’s intellect wasn’t greater than all of theirs combined.

He had to ward off various potential inquiries with his polished glare until Brown showed up. 

In the beginning, she appeared skeptical about Damian’s motivations. However, after assurances that he just wanted to know the quiet Cassandra better, she was eager to talk. And talk. And talk. The woman didn’t need normal amounts of oxygen.

Still, the meeting did bear some fruit. Damian found out random facts like… 

Cassandra trained both Brown and Drake, making their shortcomings even more surprising. 

Also, Cassandra willingly handed over the Batgirl mantle to Brown (a mistake, in Damian’s opinion).

Last and worst, Cassandra once threatened to eat Brown’s hamster. That made Damian pause. For a while then, he had been considering going vegetarian. Sure, hamsters were weak and useless creatures, but not even they deserved to be consumed. 

Eventually, Damian managed to separate from Brown.

_Vicious enough to threaten hamsters, check!_

  
  
  
  
  


Moving onto another irrelevant Batmember, Damian travelled to the remote castle at Gotham’s outskirts to see Azrael, otherwise known as Jean-Paul Valley. Damian wouldn’t have bothered if he wasn’t aware of Cassandra’s affinity for Azrael. 

The blond man talked like a child, gushing about his and Cassandra’s joint adventures. 

Nothing that Damian hadn’t grilled Grayson and Pennyworth about before. About to give up, Azrael finally mentioned something that made Damian’s ears perk up.

“She gave you _what_ as your Christmas gift?”

“A beautiful ballet performance,” Azrael repeated gleefully.

_Willing to waste time on unprofitable endeavours, check!_

  
  
  
  


Damian decided not to bother his father with questions during his space travels, talking with Drake was always unnecessary, and as for Pennyworth… Despite being the help, he had a keen eye and would likely discern Damian’s true intentions. 

On the whole, Damian still wasn’t ready to denounce Cassandra’s allegiances. 

  
  
  
  
  


Certain tests were in order to ensure her goodwill and assess her abilities. Nothing too difficult for a former assassin of the League. Talia put his father through much more deadly challenges to prove himself as a suitable match.

Even with her speech defect, she held up on her own. It was almost as if she didn’t notice the tests. 

To begin, he set up booby traps in her bedroom. Nothing major, but a true warrior must be mindful of her surroundings. He stayed awake all night long but heard no screams because of the door tripwire, or the closet net, or the pressure-sensitive gas bomb placed beneath her pillow. Not even a gasp from the unbreakable goo slathered on her hairbrush. 

She was good, but was she still the best?

  
  
  
  
  


Damian didn’t go easy on her during sparring. Actually, he never went easy on anyone, but he pushed her especially hard. 

“You hit like a girl!” He taunted her after falling flat on his butt. His chest ached from her punch, but she didn’t need to know that. 

The three consecutive battles may have swung in her favour, yet the slight hitch in her breathing afterward proved that Damian was no easy win. 

Unlike that weakling Drake who kept annoying them with his unsolicited presence.

  
  
  
  
  


Speak of the little orphan boy, Drake appeared with an ever-present coffee mug in his hand and sipped from it with gusto. The manor was huge. Damian didn’t understand how he kept running into this fool in the hallway.

“How can you drink that abominable sludge?” Damian turned up his nose to it

  
“I literally couldn’t function without this abominable sludge,” Tim chuckled, “it’s my kryptonite.” Damian scowled, for some reason, that answer made him mad. 

Acting on instinct, he took the coffee mug out of Drake’s hands. Surprised, Drake let him.

“Then let me save you from yourself,” Damian quickly walked away to the safety of his bedroom. He could dump the coffee out of the window.

At least, he would’ve if not for the intruder. Damian placed his hand on Cassandra's elbow to get her attention. Nothing threatening about it. Yet she flipped him on his back, spilling the coffee on his rug. 

The worst part was that Drake saw it all. Grudgingly, Damian took Drake’s offered hand and pulled himself upright. Talking with Alfred, Cassandra didn’t even seem to notice him. 

Not willing to stay in his now coffee-stinking room, Damian followed Drake to the kitchen. He plopped himself down on a counter stool while Drake poured himself a new mug of liquid dirt. 

“You know that Clayface’s death hit her hard,” Drake confided in Damian, “don’t take what happened personally.”

  
  
“- _TT-”_ Damian refused to meet Drake’s pity-filled eyes, “I don’t care.” 

“Really?” Drake leaned on the counter across from him, “because I had the impression that you care about Cass very much.” 

“She’s my partner—my teammate,” Damian looked down at the countertop and traced the lines in the wood, “of course I care that she doesn’t trip up in battle. I don’t even know why I’m bothering explaining myself to _you.”_

“Sure, Damian. Pretend all you want that she’s not more. But there has to be a reason that you call her Cassandra and not her last name like the rest of us,” Drake raised his eyebrows knowingly. 

Unable to come up with a good retort, Damian left the kitchen with a huff.

Stupid Drake and his stupid ideas… 

  
  
  
  
  


Later, after the dagger-shaped moon surfaced in the sky, Damian made his way to the manor rooftop. He sat beside Cassandra, “anyone could spot you up here.” His words broke the fragile silence of the night. Damian berated himself inside his head. Those were not the condolences that he had planned. 

Cassandra did not respond. 

“I suppose you’re wondering how the team meeting went,” Damian continued, “because Father foolishly thought that you couldn’t handle being there. Gordon was the wisest one there. Even Todd made some good points. We’re a Bat- _family._ And family doesn’t abandon each other for anything. You and I should understand that the most. After everything that we’ve done…” 

Finally, Cassandra lifted her head. Damian was struck by the broken look in her eyes.

“Clayface understood too…” She spoke so softly that Damian almost missed it. “He was trying to be good...But Batwoman killed him anyway.”

“That’s different,” Damian responded haltingly, “he used to be a criminal.” 

Cassandra’s left eyebrow rose a minuscule amount.

“No one here would try to hurt us! We’re not assassins anymore.”

Pursing her lips, Cassandra trapped any argument that may have escaped.

“They miss you,” Damian kept talking. It was all he could do, “the League, I mean. Even Grandfather was impressed by your work. Mother would tell me stories. Like how you infiltrated that government building during a birthday party to reach the diplomat.”

“It killed the kid too,” Cassandra whispered.

“What?”

  
  
“The diplomat’s daughter,” Damian flinched when Cassandra’s voice rose unexpectedly. “shared the same allergy…. The hospital couldn’t save either of them.” 

“Oh, Mother didn’t mention that,” the silence returned, but unlike before it was now deafening.

“Why would she?” Cassandra stood up, “the kid wasn’t the target…”

“But things are different now. You wouldn’t hurt someone who didn’t deserve it… And neither would I.”

“We do good things…. We’re not good people.” Damian didn’t follow as Cassandra disappeared into the darkness.

He was scared of what else she would reveal. He was even more scared of what he’d reveal to her, given enough time in the condemning silence.

  
  
  
  
  


Cassandra stopped talking to Damian. She stopped talking to everyone. It wasn’t on purpose, at least, he didn’t think that it was. She just became buried in her grief. 

The normal pep talks and well-meaning speeches weren’t cutting it.

No one else seemed to be up to the task, so naturally, it fell on Damian to reach his childhood hero.

  
  
  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  
  


Damian broke into the Clock Tower to speak with Oracle. Gordon didn’t visit the Manor often, so she still hadn’t had the chance to vex Damian yet. Either way, she was his best bet if he wanted to connect with Cassandra.

“There’s a door, you know,” Gordon said dryly. Her back facing him, Gordon stayed focused on her screens: a few of which showed the tower perimeter. 

“I figured that I’d point out the flaws in your security,” Damian walked up to her side. Despite being in a wheelchair, Gordon still matched his height. That was fine. His father was also a late bloomer in the height factor. 

“And what did I do to earn a visit from the Boy Wonder?”

Damian ignored her sarcasm and got straight to the point. “I want you to teach me American Sign Language.”

Gordon’s eyebrows rose comically, apparently whatever answer she was expecting wasn’t that. “I’d be happy to, Damian, but can I ask what brought this up?”

  
  
A few beats passed before Damian spoke up. “It’d be a useful skill in the field during radio silence. Besides… I’m aware that it is the preferred communication for certain members on the team.”

“I’m surprised Talia didn’t immerse you in all languages,” Gordon observed with a slight smile.

“She did,” Damian relaxed a bit at Gordon’s apparent amity, “but American Sign Language was not deemed significant enough to be included.”

  
  
“Despite being the main form of communication for about one million people,” Gordon grumbled under her breath, “when would you like to begin?”

  
  
“Right now,” Damian took out some books from his knapsack, “I’ve already educated myself on the basics.”

“Nice, you can place those on my desk,” Gordon instructed him, “they’ll be good for reference.”

“I thought you had a photographic memory?” Damian inquired.

“Don’t be a smart ass,” she replied without any genuine irritation in her voice.

  
  
Damian surveyed her over-populated desk for a clear spot. He finally stacked them next to a couple of toys. He paused at the sight of them.

“Want one?” Gordon grinned and grabbed plushie Batman, “I’ve got way too much merch anyway. Dick likes to make fun of me for being a ‘fangirl,’ but they’re just so cute.”

  
  
“Umm,” Damian looked back and forth from the plushie in her hands to the one on the desk.

“You can have both,” Gordon offered after realizing his dilemma, “don’t want Nightwing to get lonely.”

“ _-TT-_ ,” Damian accepted both the Batman and Nightwing plushies, “I’m not a child. But I will remove these and spare you future embarrassment. I know how ridiculous Grayson can get.”

  
  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  


“Titus, no!” Damian charged after the Great Dane into the manor garden, “give that back!” Both dog and boy leaped over the rose bushes and ran past the apple tree. 

Skidding around the squash patch, Damian built up too much momentum to stop and collided right into Pennyworth in his floppy sun hat.

“Gah, watch where you’re going!” Immediately, Damian pulled away and saw Pennyworth’s frown, “I mean… I’m trying to catch Titus, he took something that doesn’t belong to him. I’m sorry for interrupting your duties.” 

“Apology accepted, Master Damian. Now please stop your dog before my petunias are completely overturned.”

Damian turned around to see Titus digging up the flowers.

“Titus!” Damian groaned and took a step forward. Then out of nowhere, Cassandra swooped in and put her fingers on Titus’ forehead.

  
  
“Heel, boy,” she ordered and the dog obeyed. 

_“Thank you, Cassandra. I appreciate your assistance. I can take it from here.”_ Automatically, Damian’s hands moved up to sign. Gordon’s lessons definitely paid off. Wide-eyed, Cassandra stared at Damian.

_“Yes, that’s all. Thank you.”_ Damian wasn’t aware that he was using ASL with Cassandra for the first time. For the past few weeks, he had been planning out this interaction, so it now felt completely natural. He wanted to talk with her more, but not at that moment with his pants covered with grass stains and sensitive items around. 

_“Is this yours?”_ Cassandra finally signed back before picking up a Batman plushie. 

Gasping, Damian grabbed it from her hands. 

“No! Bad dog!” He scolded Titus who became much meeker after Cassandra’s trick. The left arm of the plushie was holding on by the last threads. 

A bubbly giggle slipped out of Cassandra’s lips. 

Was she laughing at _him?_ Damian tucked the plushie carefully under his arm and faced her.

_“I promised to take care of this for Oracle,”_ as Damian’s temper grew, his signing became jerky, “ _but Alfred the cat climbed up my dresser and knocked it onto the ground. Before I could retrieve it, Titus ran off with it.”_

_“I can fix it,”_ in contrast to Damian, Cassandra’s hands fluttered in the air like butterflies. 

“ _What?”_

_“Meet me inside… After you fix_ **_Alfred’s_ ** _petunias,”_ _  
  
_

Damian assumed she meant “Alfred” for she wrapped her hand in the “A” sign yet skipped it off her forehead like the sign for “grandpa.”

_“Alright?”_ Cassandra already turned her back to him to go inside, taking the plushie and Titus with her.

  
  
  
  


After replanting the petunias, Damian took a few extra minutes to wash up in the bathroom before finding Cassandra in the parlor room. She already stitched the Batman plushie back to tiptop shape. 

  
At the moment, she was rolling on the carpet with Titus. Her bubbly giggles making a comeback.

“Ah hrm,” Damian announced his presence and Cassandra sat up to face him (while scratching Titus behind his ears.)

“ _I see that the toy is fixed, thank you.”_

_“How is_ **_Barbara_ ** _?”_ Gordon did teach her own name sign (created by Cassandra) to Damian. It was the sign “smart” followed by the sign “sister,” so Cassandra’s hand flipped over her forehead then morphed into an ‘L’ that moved down to tap her non-dominant hand. 

_“You haven’t seen her?”_ Stupid question. Cassandra hadn’t been hanging out with anyone except Pennyworth recently. _“She’s fine. Busy running the Birds of Prey and Justice League from the Clock Tower.”_

_“She overworks herself,”_ a small groove formed between Cassandra’s eyebrows.

_“She always makes time for my ASL lessons,”_ Damian shrugged, _“although, with your absolute fluency, the lessons would go even faster.”_

Ignoring the non-subtle suggestion, Cassandra gestured for him to sit down and pet Titus too. He complied, although he was still upset with Titus’ misbehaviour from earlier.

_“Did she choose your name sign yet?”_

_“No, Gordon said you were the best at inventing those,”_ Damian felt a bit weird using Gordon’s name sign… but she was unmistakably very smart. And he supposed he could do worse for a sister.

Cassandra immediately made a sign that Damian didn’t recognize.

“ _What’s that?”_

 _  
__  
__“Your sign,”_ Cassandra did the motions a bit slower, placing her open palm next to her head and folding down her fingers. Next, she took down her fist to hit the other, opening both hands up into finger guns. She then spelled out the words.

H-E-A-D-S-T-R-O-N-G B-R-O-T-H-E-R

“ _I suppose that is adequate,”_ Damian sniffed, a warm feeling spreading inside his chest. He made sure to memorize the signs. 

Hungry for attention, Titus whined until the two Batkids put their focus back at him.

“ _I’m sorry about T-I-T-U-S,”_ Damian spelled out the dog’s name, _“the animals have been especially needy after Grayson left for Blüdhaven. It’s been hard to have any time for myself.”_

Cassandra took a minute to rub Titus’ belly before responding, _“you can visit my place. No one will bother you there.”_

_“Awesome!”_ Damian signed quickly before she could change her mind.

  
  
  
  
  


Cassandra’s place turned out to be an abandoned theater with rows and rows of empty seats; the only sound being a hollow echo; and a fridge stocked with salads; Damian loved it! Not told not to, Damian explored her attic space. There were clothes scattered everywhere, a half-empty mug with an emblazoned Super symbol, and a gold angel figurine balancing precariously on a stack of Shakespeare books. 

To sum it up, Cassandra was a slob. 

Flipping through her DVD collection, Damian discovered mostly classical music. 

“ _You dance, right?”_

_“I used to,”_ Cassandra responded. 

_“I always wanted to see a ballet performance, but Mother never permitted it,”_ Damian lied through his hands. He already noticed Cassandra’s adverseness to the League, taking advantage of it to push Cassandra into healing was the right thing to do.

Carefully, Cassandra pulled out a certain CD case from her collection. The name “Pavane” was scrawled across it. _“Come with me.”_

Settling down in the front row, Damian waited for Cassandra to begin.

The soothing notes from a flute wafted out of the still-functioning speakers. Oboes soon joined in to enrich the melody. Laying down another layer of sound, string instruments sang lasting melodies. 

Centered on the stage, Cassandra was surrounded by several pale purple and pink spotlights (likely installed by Brown due to her color preferences). She posed, toes up, and flew. 

Unconsciously, Damian leaned forward in his seat. He was lying to her before. Ballet never interested him. And yet… He could now understand the passion underlying it. 

His fingers itched to capture Cassandra’s movements in his sketchbook, yet at the same time, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her!

As she danced, her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Her natural silence followed her in every leap and twirl. Like a fairy… Or an apparition. 

Mesmerized by the music, Damian could almost imagine being back at Nanda Parbat. Any second now, Talia would burst in and walk through Cassandra. Then the imaginary figure would disappear without a sound.

Instead, the last notes rang out. Cassandra gracefully raised her arms above her head and—like a painstakingly carved ice sculpture— froze. 

Damian shot up to his feet and applauded, “bravo, bravo!” (From watching cartoons with Grayson, he was pretty sure that was the right thing to say). 

Flinching at his outburst, Cassandra’s arms fell down and the spell was broken. She hopped off the stage, close enough so Damian could spot her rosy blush.

_“Thank you,”_ Cassandra signed quickly.

_“Thank you. I finally got to see the beauty of ballet. You’re so much better than those wannabes I watched online. Do you know more dances?”_

_“A few,”_ Cassandra acquiesced. 

  
  
  
  


After that day, it became routine for Damian to visit the abandoned theater. The two Batkids would chat and eat meals together, meditate side by side, and play games of chess.

By far, Damian’s favorite activity was drawing in his sketchbook while Cassandra danced on stage. The high rafters and catwalks reminded Damian of the Batcave while the giant, crimson curtains bordering the stage seemed to soak up all the color in the solemn auditorium.

He mostly sketched the places from his past. So engrossed in shading, he nearly missed Cassandra’s approach. But of course, he did. Damian was the Boy Wonder.

_“Beautiful,”_ Cassandra complimented the drawing.

_“It is acceptable,”_ Damian answered.

_“Who taught you to draw like this?”_ She sat down beside him.

_“My old Geology teacher… She often indulged in silly pastimes,”_ Damian explained.

_“Can I see more?”_

_“I suppose,”_ and now Damian was the one blushing.

Cassandra flipped through several pages before stopping to examine one of herself.

“It’s not done yet!” Damian cried out and tried to snatch it back. Cassandra pulled it away before he could. Her finger drew over the outline of the Gotham skyline then slipped down. 

Damian drew her as Black Bat, her arms held up in a block and her legs positioned in a fighting stance.

He was still working on the face. Right then it looked… fleeting. Her features undefined and soft. One side of her mouth curved up, either in a snarl or a smile.

_“May I have this?”_ Cassandra, the real one, was definitely smiling.

“Hrmmph,” Damian grumbled, _“when I finish.”_

  
  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  


Damian made the mistake of lowering his guard. While things seemed to be going well, he was trained by his mother to prepare for the worst.

The betrayal didn’t come from Cassandra. 

“I have done **all** that has been asked of me! I control aspects of my upbringing that neither of you could begin to understand—And I am dismissed by **him** , as a **threat** to be monitored for some hidden agenda?!” Damian closed his eyes and forced his voice to lower, “it isn’t fair.” 

Something caught in his throat. 

“Maybe it’s not, Damian, but it’s—it’s—go clean up and let me talk to Tim, Okay?...” Grayson’s solid hand landed on Damian’s shoulder. Hanging his head low, Damian let Alfred lead him out of the Batcave. 

Damian knew that there was no love between himself and Drake, but to add _him_ to a secret list of untrustworthy allies? Alongside delinquents such as Geo-Force and Green Arrow?! That was preposterous!

Obviously, Grayson would set him straight. Damian was his Robin. After working together, Grayson had to trust Damian. He wasn’t a threat! 

And his father couldn’t have known about this oversight. There was no way… No way… 

Damian shrugged off Pennyworth and ran away. He didn’t need the butler’s coddling. Damian wasn’t a baby. No one had ever sugarcoated the hard truth to him before.

On the manor roof, Damian laid on his back and attempted to get his breathing under control. A little skittering caused his head to turn.

“Alfred!” Damian exclaimed at the sight of his tuxedo cat, “what are you doing here?” Alfred the cat carefully climbed over to Damian’s face.

“Stop that!” Damian snickered as Alfred the Cat’s sandpapery tongue scratched his forehead. Apparently satisfied, Alfred the Cat clambered up and got comfortable on Damian’s belly.

Damian could feel the cat’s weight with every breath. The pressure calmed him down. 

He looked up at the stars. No moon tonight. 

A louder skittering came from his other side, “Titus!” Damian groaned, “not you too!” 

“Not Titus,” Cassandra spoke up.

“Oh,” Damian tensed but didn’t sit up, “did Alfred tell you what happened?” 

  
He didn’t want to, but Damian felt a burning jealousy in his chest. Cassandra’s picture wasn’t in Drake’s collection of untrustworthys. 

“Drake made mistake,” she responded, laying down beside him. 

“Did he?” Damian spat out bitterly, “I’m not a good person. I’m not like you, Cassandra. The first time that my mother handed me a sword to slay an enemy, I did it. Same with the third, fourth… countless times! I didn’t run away like you.”

Cassandra stayed quiet for so long that Damian thought that she’d let it be.

“Wrong before. I can change. You can change,” Cassandra spoke softly, but each word touched Damian so clearly.

  
  
“Well, maybe I can’t!” Damian refused to be swayed so easily.

“You can. Robin can,” Cassandra reasserted. 

“Don’t you hate me?” Damian’s voice squeaked out, “aren’t I a reminder of everything you left behind?” 

Damian twitched when Cassandra’s cool hand touched his face. She cradled his cheek and turned his head over to face her.

“At first, yes,” she confessed, “but now know you.” Cassandra switched over to ASL.

_“ **Damian**. You never let anyone dictate your actions. Like me, you chose this life. This _ _family_ _. And I am very happy that you are here.”_

Caught up in his emotions, Damian did something that he rarely ever did. He initiated a hug.

Cassandra may not have been as big as his father, warm like Grayson, or smell like baked goods like Pennyworth. But she gave really good hugs. 

A little meow erupted between them. They broke apart to find Alfred the Cat being squished.

“Ha.. ha!” Damian and Cassandra laughed hard and long.

“ _Thank you…_ ” Damian finally used Cassandra’s name sign that Gordon taught him. He flapped his hand off his chin twice for the sign “sweet” then formed an “L” and knocked his hands together for “sister.” 

  
Sweet sister _“_ **_Cassandra.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The woman who led the League of Assassins. The warrior who ran the Outsiders at his father’s command.”
> 
> “I had it! I had it! You ruined it all!” Damian grappled Black Bat onto her back.
> 
> “Don’t forget what matters, you’re alive.” 
> 
> “I have done all that has been asked of me! I control aspects of my upbringing that neither of you could begin to understand—And I am dismissed by him, as a threat to be monitored for some hidden agenda?!” Damian closed his eyes and forced his voice to lower, “it isn’t fair.” 
> 
> “Maybe it’s not, Damian, but it’s—it’s—go clean up and let me talk to Tim, Okay?...” Grayson’s solid hand landed on Damian’s shoulder. Head heavy, Damian let Alfred lead him out of the Batcave. 
> 
> = lines taken directly from the comics Batman: Gates of Gotham and Batgirl 2009 and Red Robin #14
> 
> COMING UP NEXT... Tatsu Yamashiro (Katana) :)


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